SPRING 2005
ear Friends,
As I approach the end of my clerking term and sit down to write, my heart is full. There is so much for which I am grateful, so many thoughts and feelings swirling within me, so many things I could say. What I am now feeling led to put to paper is a biblical reflection on Jesus’ parable of the sower.
You probably know the story. It was one of Jesus’ many attempts to explain the kingdom, or reign, of God. A sower scatters seeds liberally. Some fall off the path and the birds quickly eat them. Some fall on rocky ground and, while seedlings initially shoot up in the damp shallow soil, they soon dry up under the blaze of the sun. Some fall among the brambles; the seeds germinate and try their best to grow, but the young plants are choked out. But some fall on good ground and grow into plants that bear fruit, some little, and some a lot.
Each time I approach a parable I see something different, for I am changing. My reading of this parable today is different from yesterday’s reading, and will be different from tomorrow’s. At times I have thought the story to be about different conditions of people, with some being brambles, some rocky soil, some good soil. I imagined that people’s conditions change over time, for good or for ill. My understanding today is that all types of ground are within me at all times. I suspect they are within each of us. I have my path that I pace back and forth—the patterns, the assumptions, the conventions, the definitions and explanations that give my life meaning. These are not bad in themselves, for we all need our paths, but it is challenging for new life to start there. I have my rocky soil, those parts of my life that are cluttered with obstructions that keep my spirit dry and shallow. My preoccupations, obsessions, and possessions, even my best intentions, can be such obstructions. And God knows I have my brambles. I try my best, sometimes unsuccessfully, to keep from pricking others with my thorns. I also have my good ground. I know this because I have felt the Seed germinate, have felt the sprout pushing though the soil, have felt the leaves opening to the water and sun.
The ground that is good God made so from the beginning, and my heart says thank you. I acknowledge that what keeps the ground good are the years of care and nurture I have received from family and friends, from the healing forgiveness of the earth herself, from my faith community, from teachers and elders, from colleagues and clerks, from committee work and meetings for worship, from all the people of God exercising their gifts, and more. Hundreds of relationships and many a sunset have nurtured the soil. I have done my part to keep the nutrients from running off—my own self-nurture, my listening and praying, my recreation and Sabbath rests—but the minerals and nutrients are not of my creation. Remembering this makes me humble.
Good ground alone does not make a garden. What makes the soil receptive to the Seed is that the ground is cleared, broken open, turned over, raked smooth. All the over-the-top joy in my life, all my sorrows, all my woundedness, all the surprised-by-grace moments, all my letting go and God-surrendering have contributed to this preparation of the soil. Through relationships with people and creation and through the activity of the indwelling Christ (or Seed, as Fox sometimes said), I am daily being made ready for rediscovering who I am, being made ready for loving community, being made ready for integrity, justice, and peace. And I am being made ready for what I cannot yet imagine.
Friends of Salem Quarter, you have touched me and changed me; I am the richer for it. Serving you as clerk has been for me challenging, encouraging, humbling, and empowering. I thank you for the ways you have nurtured the ground of my heart. I can even thank you for the times that were most difficult for me, for through the challenges my earth has been turned over in places that were once hard, and new ground has been prepared for the Seed. Thank you for a hundred ways you have contributed to my greening.
Might it be that we together as a quarter are like living soil? I wonder what parts of us as a quarter might be rocky, what parts thorny, what parts trampled hard, what parts fertile. The Seed will surely continue to take root and grow in the good soil, for this is God’s doing. I wonder how we might continue to tend to the soil and nurture the seedlings, two tasks that are largely up to us. I wonder who we together are becoming. I believe that if we move forward with God one step at a time—in our worship, committee work, programs, and service—our greening will continue and our garden will flourish, heavy with fruit.
With appreciation, and with confidence that we will nurture and support our new clerk in the coming months,
—Michael Gibson, clerkRETURN TO TABLE OF CONTENTS
Last modified:
Saturday, February 26, 2005 at 08:59 PM
